


Curiosity Can Also Grant Wishes

by Sparcina



Series: The Sexy Ships of Star Trek [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Confession, And one above all others, Blow Jobs, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Dirty Talk, Elevator Sex, Fluff and Smut, Jim loves to suck cocks, Jim might be a tad desperate, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nothing New Under The Sun, Or Jim reads reads about himself without asking for permission first, Secret Crush, Suspicious Spock, Voyeurism, fantasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 13:22:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17684282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparcina/pseuds/Sparcina
Summary: Jim could say it’s an accident, but the truth is, his crush on Chekov is getting out of hand.Or, the one where Jim ‘accidentally’ hacks Chekov’s PADD and discovers very detailed fantasies with himself in the staring role.





	Curiosity Can Also Grant Wishes

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for validating this ship, dear colleague :P

Jim really should return the PADD to its rightful owner. Especially _this_ PADD. 

But he didn’t. He brought it to his room and locked himself in, postponing his chess game with Spock to the next day.

The truth was, he’d wanted to take a look at Chekov’s tablet for several months, and he was reckless and obstinate enough to ‘encourage’ the circumstances. Thankfully, he was alone in his quarters now, no righteous first officer breathing down his neck. 

He really should return the PADD to Pavel. Really, that's what the captain of the Enterprise should do right this instant. 

The thing was, _Jim_ didn't want to, and with Chekov’s PADD in his lap and his curiosity at the forefront of his mind, there was only so much resistance he could offer temptation. After arguing one last time with the losing side of himself (reason, responsibilities, a little Spock in disguise), Jim entered his override code and was granted access to the tablet’s main page.

Guilty as charged, thy name is Jim Kirk.

Most of what he found were the expected scientific notes and diagrams that hinted at the sharp wits of a nineteen-year-old genius. He recognized a couple of equations and could venture a _guess_ at the subject of some of the least complicated files, but for the most part he felt like he was parsecs away from unraveling the inner workins of Chekov’s mind. He nevertheless spent quite a while scrolling through the various pages of notes, sometimes brushing the screen with his thumb for the sake of it, picturing the kid typing away his ideas and feeling an almost childish delight at touching an object that remained (almost) always in the lieutenant’s possession.

The kid’s brilliant mind was at least part of the reason Jim couldn’t stop thinking about him. He’d seen and done pretty much everything with at least a dozen species over his fifteen years of active sexuality, from threesomes to sixsomes, including pretty mind-blowing parties that involved both unqualifiable- _and_ unquantifiable-somes, most of which didn’t even involve tentacles (not that Jim didn’t like a few tentacles here and there, because he did, mostly in his ass with a cock down his throat). That being said, as soon as he’d had the pleasure of discussing with the nubile Russian genius who would become his and everyone else's favorite lieutenant, and discovered that the mind matched the flawless looks, he hadn’t hungered for anyone else.

Chekov was the first person _ever_ for whom he’d turn monogamous. Not that it would be that much of a sacrifice, considering that he only dreamt about the kid’s lithe body and bright blue eyes these days. The only reason he didn’t cream his pants spontaneously every time he heard ‘Yes, Keptin!” was because he didn’t want A) to be punched in the face by Sulu, who treated Chekov like a little brother and _had_ punched the last guy who’d been too forward with said brother B) to be mocked until his old age by Bones C) to be lectured by Spock until kingdom comes. So what if he’d developed self-control as a mean of survival?

Well, self-control was _not_ what he was displaying right now, digging into Chekov’s PADD like a kid on Christmas Eve, but at least he kept his hands to himself. Fuck, it would be so easy to make the kid his. The raw adoration that lit up Chekov’s face every time Jim opened his mouth (and he did that on an alarmingly frequent basis for no relevant purpose, if Spock was to be believed) spoke for itself. Jim would just have to invite the lieutenant in his room, no, scratch that- he’d just need to kiss those soft-looking lips once, or hint at his interest with a few chosen words, hands splayed on those fine-boned shoulders, for the kid to fall into his arms and do exactly what he was told. Chekov took orders like a champion and Jim, even when he was feeling at his most dominant and masturbating furiously just before Alpha Shift, never _used_ that adoration. Quite the opposite, actually: he took his time kissing the kid, discovering his body with his mouth and hands, fingered himself open as Chekov watched him with hooded eyes and then had the kid fuck him. Chekov would be so pretty, riding him, hard cock standing proud against his flat belly, whimpering ‘Jim, _da_ , so good, Jim’ until Jim urged him to go faster, fuck him harder, and-

Jim tore himself from this all-too-familiar train of thought and reminded himself that he couldn’t help his imagination, but he could control his actions. He didn’t encourage the kid’s adoration in the slightest, didn’t speak to him any differently than he addressed the rest of his crew. Ok, so his gaze _might_ linger at times, when he was especially tired or feeling horny and punishing his fixation on his lieutenant by _not_ jerking off daily as he should to be functional, but then nobody had noticed (except Spock, but then _he_ probably needed to glare at his captain daily to be functional).

And it was then, while he was reflecting on his OX’s possible lack of sex life and his own decision to emulate a monk for the foreseeable future that he found it.

The only folder on the tablet that was encrypted.

Jim licked his lips. He should return the PADD to Chekov. Right fucking now. And apologize, for consulting it without permission, but Jim couldn’t deny himself anything for long (except Chekov), and oooohhhh, this quantum-based encryption was so clever, wouldn’t accept the ship’s captain’s override code in a million years, and Jim had always enjoyed a good challenge, especially when said challenge distracted him from his Dangerous Chekov Obsession (except that the challenge was issued by Chekov, and if a little voice kept nagging at him that he was behaving more Jim-like than usual because he was not merely in lust but also in head-over-heels in love with the kid, he eventually stopped hearing it amidst the white noise of his own frantic heartbeat).

He spent hours racking his brain for a way around the seemingly impenetrable wall protecting Chekov’s secret. At some point, Jim’s sleep-deprived mind even entertained the notion that the kid was spying for the Romulans, or sleeping with Spock and taking notes about Vulcan biology, but that was just a momentary glitch in Jim’s otherwise perfect reasoning process and he quickly transferred all of his focus back to hacking.

It was one hour and fifty-two minutes before the start of his shift that he finally cracked the code. With a trembling finger and a dry mouth, Jim clicked on the icon labeled in Cyrillic, then manually changed the language to English.

What he discovered then made him instantly forget about mundane concerns such as showering, getting dressed and _doing his job_.

Pavel Andreievich Chekov (and yes, he knew his full name and could write it in Cyrillic in his sleep, thank you very much) was keeping a diary.

And it was about Jim.

About what Chekov thought of doing with him. About his fantasies which always involved Jim in some capacity. His nineteen-year-old lieutenant, which everyone on board thought pure as an angel, actually spent a great deal of his free time coming up with various scenarios, which individually turned him on more than all his erotic dreams of the last six months put together. He read every single entry in that folder with increasing arousal, eyes jumping from one line to the next.

_… makes me suck him off in the Captain’s chair while we are alone on the bridge, and then he makes me sit on his beautiful cock and ride him, whispering sweet words in my ear as he fills…_

_… the elevator breaks right between our floors. It is very warm in the small space, and Jim removes all his clothes and invites me to do the same. I tell him about how I don’t like to be confined in elevators, and he sets to distract me with his mouth, kissing every inch of my trembling body, telling me how there is no need to be afraid, and certainly no reason to try and hide my body because he hungers for it, had wanted me for…_

_… I don’t want him to kneel for me, but he insists one night after our shift, and those lips feel so good on my cock I could only hope to last a full minute before I lose myself entirely to his clever mouth. He smiles up at me after I climax on his tongue, tell me how…_

_… Captain is no virgin, but he isn’t repulsed or discouraged by my lack of experience. “I’ll take my time preparing you for me,” he purrs in my ear, licking the shell, as he slides a first finger inside me. “You feel so good, so hot and tight around my finger,_ Pasha, _I’m sure you’ll feel wonderful on my cock… Want you to enjoy it so bad…_

_… He makes me beg for it sometimes, calls me ‘my good boy’ or ‘my pretty slut’ because I never have enough, never enough of his hands, of his mouth, his cock, him. He calls me those names during our shift, a brief whisper in my ear as he leans over and pretends to check on my work, and I blush and Sulu gets worried, and it is so hard to wait a few hours to get his delicious cock where I want it most…_

_… And he gets all red and flustered, too, when I call him ‘Keptin’, because when we’re on the bridge he thinks about me at least as much as I think about him, and secretly he likes being called a whore, or more precisely, ‘my good little whore’, when I lick him open at the end of his shift and fuck him against the wall because he wants it hard sometimes, wants to feel me when he goes planetside and I have to remain on board the_ Enterprise _…_

_… I love how he makes me so happy with the merest hint of his lopsided smile. It’s a secret smile just for me, I think. I love his hands, how they can be soft or leave bruises when the mood strikes him to reassure himself that I am his, and no one’s else, that I shall never leave…_

_… and in the quiet hours of the morning, when we both lay in bed with our hands laced between us, I tell him I love him, and he pulls me in his strong hands, whispering…_

“Captain?”

Spock’s voice startled Jim so bad he barely stifled a scream.

“… uh, yes, Mr. Spock?”

“Are you all right, Captain?” his first officer enquired immediately. “Your shift has started 2.54 minutes ago.”

Jim was on his feet before the end of Spock’s intervention. “Yeah, _fuck_ , ok, I’m on my way, I-”

He turned off the comm before Spock could get (even more) suspicious and changed in a clean uniform in record time. His heart beat madly off rhythm as he made his way to the bridge. He didn’t need a mirror to know he had bags under his eyes and flushed cheeks. He felt the concern eyes of fellow crewmates as he strode up and down corridors and plastered a confident smile, even returned waves. He could get through one shift, right? He could pretend that he hadn’t just spent _hours_ immersing himself in Chekov’s mind, and fantasies he would now consider his own because _fuck_ if they didn’t fit perfectly the jigsaw’s pieces of his own throbbing desire for a certain lieutenant…

… and of course, said lieutenant was already in his chair, working. Jim had to remind himself that running to the safety of the Captain’s chair would only arouse Spock’s suspicion another notch, so he stopped by Uhura’s station first, and while he talked to her, he made sure not to have Chekov anywhere in his line of sight. He couldn't think about what he'd read. What went on in the lieutenant's head was the lieutenant's business and Jim could not use it as an excuse to hit on him. That wouldn't be right. He was the captain, it would be constructed as coercion even if the kid was willing. 

What a fucking mess.

By the end of his shift, the need to look in his lieutenant’s direction physically pained Jim. Chekov’s PADD in the secret pocket of the Captain’s chair awakened his guilt anew every time he managed to think about something else. And fuck, he could sense the kid’s concern, his bright eyes on him at least twice. He didn’t deserve that concern, didn’t-

As soon as the shift ended, he did exactly the opposite of what he ached to do and remained seated while Spock talked about something involving soil samples, but he might be describing his sexual life in juicy details that Jim would probably be just as distracted.

“Whatever ails you today, Captain, I hope you get better soon,” Spock concluded.

“Yeah, sure,” was all that Jim’s brain could send down his rusty brain-to-mouth circuit.

Spock arched an eyebrow, opened his mouth to add some other bit of counsel, no doubt, but Chekov was leaving the bridge and Jim had to talk to him right now…

He reached for the kid’s PADD in the chair’s pocket and let Spock come up with whatever scenario suited him best as he ran towards the lift Chekov had elected.

When the lift’s doors began to close, Jim was pretty sure he could have been a marathoner in another life.

“… wait!”

He stopped the lift with one hand and quickly entered it, slamming the close doors button as soon as he was in before someone random or, heavens have mercy, _Spock_ could join them.

“Keptin? Is everyzhing ok?”

Jim knew he looked like a mess. He exhaled slowly, willing the knot in his belly to loosen a bit. He had to do the right thing. He owed it to Chekov. Once he was sure he wouldn’t throw himself at the kid out of sheer desperation or sputter nonsense, he opened his mouth, considered his next words carefully, and held out towards Chekov the tablet he’d been hiding behind his back like the guilty grade-schooler he really was.

“I believe I have something of yours, lieutenant.”

The kid’s eyes shone with both relief and… another kind of relief, and it should be impossible to tell the two apart, but Jim had spent way too much time studying the kid’s facial expressions to not qualify as a grade-schooler _creeper_.

“You… You found my PADD!”

As soon as Chekov picked up his tablet, his fingers started dancing on the screen, and at most three seconds went by before the lieutenant’s face turned a wonderful shade of red that did nothing to help either of Jim’s current predicaments.

“Did-” Fuck, that flustering look on the kid was so damn fetching. Chekov closed his mouth, opened it again, eyes wide and fearful. “Is there-”

Jim held out a hand to forestall all the questions he could already answer.

“I apologize, lieutenant,” he blurted out.

Right. He felt as sorry as Spock probably had after punching the daylights out of him for his comment about his mother, but it was the right thing to say… unless he grossly miscalculated something, which would explain why Chekov turned an even darker shade of red. That pretty blush spilled down the kid’s throat and Jim had to mentally slap himself to not let his mind wander, say, in the familiarity of the gutter.

“I- It appears I left my notes o-on zhe screen,” Chekov said in a strangled voice. “It is I who need to apologize, it is… vrong to vrite such zhings about you, Keptin, to even zhink zhem, and I am very stupid to-”

Jim just couldn’t help himself; he reached out for the kid’s mouth with his hand and covered it. Every nerve in his body tingled upon contact, and the way Chekov’s tongue darted between his lips, brushing against Jim’s palm, did nothing to help the don’t-go-back-to-the-gutter situation he’d got going.

“You did nothing wrong, lieutenant. I am the one who’d invaded your privacy, hacked into your tablet, I-” He took a deep breath but couldn’t bear to see the disappointment he was sure would be there on Chekov’s face, so he looked at his own feet like the coward that he was. “I was curious… and it’s no excuse! You can write what you want on your own PADD and especially your fantasies if that helps you being the super focused, brilliantly efficient lieutenant I have the privilege to work with… _oh_.”

He let out a low moan as Chekov purposefully kissed his palm, then licked it, little kitten licks that made all the blood in Jim’s body rush south. Then he cleared his throat, trying to finish that apology before it got even more out of control. He would _not_ be distracted, even if Chekov certainly acted like he meant to distract him. “Look… No, don’t- I mean… What I did was wrong and I respect you too much to pretend I’m not at fault here. I’m the one who entertains thoughts that would make you cringe in horror, not that your fantasies horrified me, quite the opposite, as I would like to enact every single one of them, but- _fuck_ , I did not mean to say that out loud…”

He trailed off, struggling with himself. It was not a pleasant struggle. And it became harder still when Chekov batted his hand away, and Jim looked up to see the kid watch him from beneath those long eyelashes, his pupils dark and hungry.

“But vhat, Keptin?”

“Fraternization between a Starfleet member and their superior officer is strictly against regs.” The words were torn from Jim’s throat like they didn’t belong there, and maybe they would sound more convincing if, say, Spock was the one quoting the damn manual. But Jim had responsibilities and he would be damned if he broke the kid’s heart because he couldn’t keep his cock in his pants.

Said kid, however, didn’t look fazed by the battle that must be more than apparent on his captain’s face.

“I do not mind, Kep- May I call you Jim?”

Jim hid his face in his hands and let out a strangled noise. “I’m trying to do the right thing here, Chekov-”

“And I appreciate it, _Jim_ , but if you meant what you said about my… fantasies, and respecting me, if you read everyzhing I wrote on my tablet, zhen please let me show you how much I vant- how much I love-” In a daring move that Jim would never have expected from his lieutenant, Chekov pressed a hand to Jim’s chest. “I vant you to have me, and if you do too-”

Jim abandoning the only ship he would ever feel glad to leave behind (reason) and caught Chekov’s mouth in a searing kiss. The fact that the kid granted him entrance as soon as he ran the tip of his tongue over those soft lips was very gratifying, but not as much as the sudden, bruising grip on his hips as Chekov basically plastered himself against him, pressing their bodies as close as physics allowed it. With a moan of delight, Jim set to lick into the kid’s hot mouth, relishing the hint of coffee and the lingering bitter taste of those candies the kid seemed to suck continuously, Russian delicacies that Jim had made a point of honor _not_ to order for himself. He explored that sweet mouth, tasting and cataloguing every last nuance, devouring the forbidden fruit that was at last granted to him by knowledge itself.

His mind still filled to overflowing with Chekov’s secret fantasies, Jim wrapped his lips around the kid’s tongue and felt the fingernails on his hips sank through the fabric of his clothes. Out of the corner of his eye, he located the emergency stop button of the lift and pressed it with his thumb even as he sucked harder on that wet tongue, and his cute lieutenant started rubbing his erection against Jim’s thigh, begging for friction. Jim set both hands on the kid’s hips and guided them gently in a gyrating motion that he knew from experience would get the kid the best kind of relief.

Chekov broke the kiss with a panicked gasp. “Kep- Jim! I going- am-”

“Yes, go on, Pavel,” Jim purred, relishing the way the syllables rolled on his tongue. He snaked a hand in between his own thigh and the kid’s throbbing cock and started to rub small, concentric circles with his palm against the budge in Pavel’s pants. “That’s it, come for me, _good boy_.”

Chekov climaxed with a sob, mumbling a string of Russian words that sounded both like a plea and a curse. Jim slid his hand under Chekov’s shirt and rubbed the small of his back in a soothing motion. “You’re doing so great.” With his free hand, he caught the kid’s chin and drank in his bewildered expression. He couldn’t help the possessive, predatory growl that view evoked in him. “You’re perfect.”

“But you- Kept- Jim, you did not-”

“Let me take care of you, Pasha.” Jim purposely used the nickname the kid hinted at in his notes, and smiled at the fascination on Chekov’s face, gracefully dropping to his knees in the enaction of another fantasy. “I’d really like to clean you up with my tongue and suck your cock, if you’d let me.”

The kid turned even redder, if such a thing was possible. Jim was starting to believe in miracles.

“You’re so pretty when you get all flustered like this, caught between embarrassment and pleasure… So, what do you say? Will you let me taste you?”

Chekov bit his lip and nodded, once. Jim smiled gently, even if the fantasy playing in his mind had nothing gentle in nature. “I require your explicit consent.”

“Yes, J-Jim. I- I like zhe idea.” The kid liked his lips, nervousness clear in the cast of his features. “Please?”

“Of course,” Jim crooned. “And trust me, it’s _my_ pleasure.”

He made quick work of the kid’s belt and peeled his pants off his thighs. He only pushed them down to his knees, irrationally afraid that Chekov would disappear if he wasn’t kept in place, but the kid’s only reaction to having every layer covering his spent cock pulled away was to part his legs as far as they would go. The restricting offered by his pants, Jim quickly discovered, was as much a turn on for Chekov as it was for himself.

“Here we go, Pasha,” he said gently, planting a kiss on his inner thigh, nostrils flaring at the scent of cum. You’re so pretty.”

“Tiny,” Chekov amended with an embarrassed grimace.

Jim licked a strip of cock from root to tip, making sure to convey his appreciation in both his facial expression and the noises he made.

“I love your cock, Pasha. It’s just as perfect as the rest of you.”

It turned out that oversensitive or not after an orgasm, the kid clearly enjoyed Jim lapping at his cock. Keeping his eyes on Chekov’s face, Jim cleaned his cock and belly thoroughly, and then gently mouthed at his balls, seeking every erogenous zone of this still mostly uncharted Eldorado. Chekov made a valiant effort to keep quiet at first, but as his cock filled up once more with blood and Jim worked him steadily with his mouth, soft keens began to tumble from his lips, then louder moans as Jim swallowed around his entire length.

“You think you can come again for me, Pasha?” Jim panted, fisting the base of Chekov’s cock as he spoke, interspacing the words with open-mouthed kisses along the flushed head. “Want to come in my mouth?”

“I-”

“Unless you’d prefer my face? A bit harder to hide what we’ve been doing, I suppose, but I wouldn’t mind.”

Chekov’s face did a funny thing that Jim hesitated to qualify, and it was followed by a strangled sound that could have been either English or Russian.

“What do you say?” he prompted, flattening his tongue over Chekov’s glans, gathering precum on his tongue as he pumped him a little faster, and harsher, too, because it had taken him three seconds top to realize exactly how Chekov liked to be touched, and _how much_ he liked to be roughened up, but just a little, just enough, and Jim wanted to give him that, wanted to hang all the moons they’d documented so far on their trip for the young man falling apart at his mouth and hands.

Exquisite. That’s what Chekov was, and Jim told him exactly that.

“And I think I love you,” he added, because he’d always had a very strange sense of timing, but who cared, because that was apparently all it took to send Chekov careening over the edge.

He closed his eyes in time not to get anything in them, and felt how hot ropes of cum hit his cheeks, nose and mouth. He darted out his tongue to get a few drops there as well. When he opened his eyes, it was to see Chekov sag against the wall, mouth open on an ‘O’ of amazement.

“I love sucking cocks,” Jim admitted without a lick of shame, loving the worship but not _too much_ of it. And then, concerned Chekov would take it the wrong way, even if that statement was technically true but no longer applied to others’ cocks, he amended: “I love having your cock in my mouth, and I’m afraid I’m gonna ask for it again unless you really hated this, which I don’t think you did.”

A delightful laugh spilled from Chekov’s thoroughly kissed lips. The kid sank to his knees in front of Jim and caught his face in both hands. His grin was contagious.

“You say you love me, _da_?”

“Yes,” Jim replied, a little embarrassed but determined to be honest, because he was in way-too deep already anyway (so it would be illogical to deny, Spock would say). “Yeah, I love you, Pavel Andreievich Chekov.”

“Jim…”

Jim was pretty sure he’d never seen so many stars in so small a space in all his life. Chekov’s blue eyes were brimming with them, millions of sparks of happiness brightening each other until Jim could swear he’d go blind from the strength of such affection… of such a powerful love.

“Ya tebya lyublyu… even if you are a very bad boy to read my secret zhoughts on you.”

The slightly too earnest expression on the lieutenant’s face was funny as hell because boy, he was so obviously new to all this, but he was trying so hard and _that_ , the need to please, coupled with the promise of a dominant Chekov waking his Captain up at night to fuck him hard and fast and use him like Jim liked to be used sometimes, tipped the balance in favor of arousal.  

Jim cleared his throat and wiped the cum off his face with the back of his hand, licking it almost as an afterthought until he saw Chekov’s pupils dilate all overt again. He tried to get his lips to form that smile Chekov seemed so fond of. “I’d say I’m sorry, but you know I’m an asshole and too curious for my own good. If you’d like, I’ll start a diary too, and you can read everything about those thoughts I’d had about you- What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Chekov’s blissful expression had darkened some.

“It will be hard, yes? To have a relationship?”

“Yes,” Jim confirmed, not wanting to give the kid false hopes. “Like I said, it’s against regs-”

“But you like challenges, _da_?”

For a moment, all Jim could do was stare at Chekov, wondering at what he’d ever done to be so fucking lucky.

“You know I’m keeping you, right?”

“Can ve pretend the lift is broken longer, so zhat you kiss me again?” Chekov wondered hopefully.

Jim fisted both hands in the lapels of his red shirt and grinned.

**Author's Note:**

> Chekov is just so cute, and brilliant, and perfect, there's no doubt in my mind Jim (and everyone else) would fall for him. I hope you're enjoying my devotion to him as much as I am!


End file.
